


Recompense

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Makeup Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: Dean is sorry for hurting the ones he loves.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Recompense

There’s a rumor about makeup sex always being good. I say it’s only as good as the fight.

Dean’s patient, but he’s got a short temper. He’s kind, but he can cut deep with words. He’s gentle but watching him take apart a vamp is bone-chilling.

And when he’s wrong, he admits it with hands and mouth and hips.

He’d told me to stay back at the hotel. I didn’t listen and almost wrecked the whole operation. I apologized and groveled.

Dean told me I was sloppy. He said I could’ve gotten someone killed. He told me he would never hunt with me again.

Sloppy.

The ride back to Lebanon was tense. Sam tried to smooth things over by changing the subject and talking about upcoming potential cases. Dean was stone silent. I cried – a lot but quietly – and blamed myself for everything.

When we pulled into the garage, I darted from the backseat with my duffle and beelined to the showers. I needed to wash away the day – the blood, the missteps. I washed my hair twice, conditioned it, exfoliated, flossed, brushed my teeth, trimmed my nails – but I still felt like a mess of a human.

Swaddled in a bath sheet and clutching my soiled clothes and boots, I made my way to my bedroom door. Before I could slip inside, I heard his voice, and I broke once more.

Now, Dean’s holding me down tight and stable, calm and right. He’s kissing every dewy inch of my body, tasting, murmuring reparations in the form of…

_beautiful_

_perfect_

_so good, sweetheart_

“I was scared,” he whispers, taking my lips with his then skimming my jaw. “I could’ve lost you and it would’ve been _my fault_.”

I wrap my legs around his descending hips and pull him into me. “Shh,” I hush him.

“No,” he says, nuzzling into the crook of my neck as he pushes inside me. “I made you cry.”

He splits me open just like the first time every time – slow and white-hot, inching forward and back until he’s fully seated, and I’m filled by him. He takes my face in his hands and looks down at me from where he’s braced himself up on his elbows.

“You’re not sloppy,” he speaks quietly, and I feel that dagger in my gut once again.

Dean knows – he knows that’s my greatest fear and my Achille’s Heel. I just want to do this right. I don’t ever want to disappoint him. I’m afraid of being a mess – all the time.

“I said it because I knew it’d hurt you,” he admits, dragging from inside my body, painstakingly, that fiery sensation of _us_ , putting me back together.

“And I had no right,” he says, dipping to kiss my forehead as he pushes back inside.

No one fits me like Dean – like a glove, snug and soothing.

“Then let’s make it right,” I whisper back, arching into him as he exhales and sets a healing pace.


End file.
